


Leave your lover

by peachys



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachys/pseuds/peachys
Summary: Achilles had always known he was unlovable, not worthy of a soft heart like Patroclus’s.





	

Achilles couldn't place a number on how long he had known Patroclus. Maybe it had been years or a lifetime or an entire eternity. If anyone asked the answer was simple. "We've known each other since childhood." But to Achilles it felt much longer than that.

They had always been Achilles and Patroclus. Patroclus and Achilles. They had always been joined at the hip but now it was Patroclus and Hector. And Achilles to the side.

He was happy for Patroclus at first. There was a new light in his eyes and his smile was brighter than ever but whenever Achilles saw Hector place his hand so subtly on Patroclus' hip or the way he'd lean in to whisper in his ear, probably some lover's secret that Achilles could never hope to understand, he just felt angry and betrayed. He wanted that, or to be more precise, he wanted Patroclus.

It was amazing really, how a touch from one person to another could tear him apart. Hector and Patroclus were an earthquake, a natural force, and they were just bidding their time until Achilles crumbled under them piece by piece by piece.

They were walking together, all three, side-by-side-by-side down the street. It was nearly empty and freshly fallen leaves littered the ground. Achilles welcomed the chilly air that bit at his exposed skin. Hector was talking about something, maybe something he and Pat had done over summer break, or that funny thing Pat had done over dinner that just made Achilles sick to his stomach whenever it was brought up. God, they were so domestic, and sweet and the way Patroclus looked at Hector as if he were everything he'd ever need just drove Achilles to the edge, until he was hanging on by the bare tips of his fingers. It was infuriating and he was slowly falling apart.

Achilles shared all of his memories with Patroclus. Everything he was and everything he could rested with Patroclus. Rested in those hands that now so firmly cupped Hector's face and held his hands and ran through his soft hair (Patroclus had told him it was).

Hector put his hand on Achilles' shoulder as they walked along. He was laughing and tugging on Achilles slightly, trying to get him to join in on a conversation that just wasn’t meant for him. It was a futile attempt but Achilles could still pretend to be grateful, could pretend to be happy to be the third wheel.

"So what do you think?" Hector asks.

Achilles looks up at him and then his eyes trail over to Patroclus who is smiling brightly at him. "What do I think about what?"

Hector frowns slightly. "Coffee."

"Oh. Coffee's good."

Hector smiles and drops his arm and Achilles can suddenly breathe a little bit better. "Patroclus and I were just talking about going to this little hole-in-the-wall place that we went to on a date once." Oh. Now he can't breathe again.

"Yeah," Patroclus says brightly. "That time was really embarrassing. Didn't you tip the waitress like thirty dollars as an apology?"

Achilles' fingers twitch inside his jacket pocket and he clenches them into a tight fist as he tunes them out again.

-

He kicks his shoes off and falls back on to the mattress with a sigh. He was tired and he manages to close his eyes for just a brief moment.

"Did you have fun today?" Patroclus asks, laying down on the spot next to him.

"Yeah, I did." But maybe that was the biggest lie Achilles had ever told Patroclus in the entire lifetime they had shared.

"I told you, you would. You and Hector are really alike; you know?"

No, Achilles thinks. _We are nothing alike._ _Hector is a lover and I am a fool. Hector has you and I am left barren of happiness_. He says; "I guess I didn't really notice it."

"You just have to give it time. You’ll get along."

Achilles shuffles around until he's lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand and his eyes intent on Patroclus. "But I'm tired of speaking about him. It's been awhile since we've been alone, Pat."

Patroclus laughs softly. It's a sound Achilles hasn't heard in a while and it has his heart racing hard in fast in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm really sorry about that. How have you been?"

Achilles frowns. The conversation seemed too formal, like they were strangers or not-quite-friends but almost there and Achilles knew for a fact that they weren't an almost. They were a past dream, a present tense, a future goal, but they were not an _almost._

"Tired. Track is wearing me down."

"Hmm," Patroclus closes his eyes and hums softly under his breath. "You're not pushing yourself like you did freshman year, right?"

"No," Achilles says, even though he is. He's intense, always has been. He practices until his legs can't carry him any longer and even then he tries to run some more. He can't remember how many times his coach has had to send him home and all the while Patroclus hadn’t been there like he used to be. He hadn’t been there to push Achilles’ sweaty hair from his forehead and reprimand him for working himself too how. Now all Achilles had was an empty room. "I'm pretty laid back about practice now."

"Achilles, are you lying to me?"

He rolls over on to his back and stares up at the barren ceiling. When they were younger they had placed countless glow in the dark stars up there in the shape of their favorite constellations. They'd hold hands under the covers and pretend they were looking up at the night sky. Achilles could still remember when Patroclus had taken them down their junior year of high school. It was like something had changed, shifted between them and caused irreparable damage.  

"Maybe. It's not that big of a deal."

"It is when it comes to your health!" He's looking at Achilles now. He can feel those dark brown eyes on his face, trying to gauge his reactions and his feelings. Trying to see into his head. "But," he says, and he sounds defeated. "You're not hurt, right?"

"Do I look hurt to you?"

Achilles can practically feel Patroclus rolling his eyes at him and this new playfulness is a welcome relief. It had been too long since they had time to themselves like this, where they could just talk about everything and anything.

"I'm sorry I haven't been to see you race," Patroclus says, just above a whisper, and Achilles feels his heart clench. Yes, it was true but every time Achilles still scanned the crowd for Patroclus who would always show up wearing his jacket, the one with Achilles' name embroidered in the back. Achilles was sure he had seen that jacket thrown carelessly in the back of Patroclus' closet the last time he stopped by his house.

He’d never really bothered to ask for it back.

"It's okay, Pat. I'm still the best, just to let you know," he says, trying to sound as smug and playful as he usually is.

"You've always been the best." He says it with such pride coloring his voice that Achilles swears his heartbeat stutters in his chest and maybe stops before it kicks and starts beating all over again. "I'm so proud of you." He's not looking at Achilles anymore, but he sorely missed Patroclus' eyes on his face.

He scoots closer and rests his head on Patroclus' chest and for one brief moment he's back to a time before Hector, a time before his heart was broken and he ached all over for something he could probably never have.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Achilles mumbles because Patroclus' chest is so comfortable and he's already almost asleep.

"It's something that's been bothering me for a while but... Do you hate Hector?"

Yes. "No. Why would I? What has Hector ever done to me?" The words come out rushed and Achilles barely believes them himself but Patroclus sighs in relief and he relaxes a little bit more into the mattress.

That was the end of that conversation.

-

They're watching a movie on Patroclus' couch, a bowl of popcorn in front of them. Achilles didn't really know what the movie was about; he was too busy leaning on Patroclus and running his hands through his hair. He was spaced out or maybe just really tired or both, but Patroclus' hair was so soft under his fingertips and he was so warm against him that this was everything Achilles wanted and for as long as Patroclus would allow it, he would take it.

"Achilles," Patroclus says though it comes out a bit breathy and Achilles can feel his skin warming in response.

"What?"

"Are you tired?"

Achilles sighs. He doesn't want to move because he knows as soon as he loses contact with Patroclus he'll be cold again.

"Come on, let's go to bed." Patroclus shifts around and his shirt moves and it's there that Achilles sees the mark right where his shoulder meets his neck. It's dark purple and a blatant sign of a night full of passion. It's a reminder. A reminder that Patroclus belongs to someone else.

When they're in Patroclus' room and he takes off his shirt Achilles can see it more clearly. He doesn't get the appeal, it looks more like a nasty bruise than something shared between lovers but like Patroclus and Hector's subtle touches and their whispers it was yet another thing Achilles could never hope to understand.

They lay down together like they had so many times before, curled up under the blankets to ward off the chill of the night.

Achilles wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. It's lodged tight in his throat and refuses to leave. He can't breathe, not until he finally manages to say it.

He curls tighter around Patroclus and grips his arm. His breathing is fast and erratic and he sees Patroclus start to open his mouth, maybe to ask him if he's okay when Achilles finally says it. "I love you." But that couldn't be what he wanted to say. He had told Patroclus many times that he loved him. The words were familiar on his tongue but their meaning had changed, he realized. The love he held for Patroclus was different. It was an ache now. A yearning.

"I love you, too," Patroclus responds but his words are light and well-worn falling from his lips and Achilles knows he does not mean it the way he does.

-

Achilles watches as Hector places his lips over Patroclus'. Soft and gentle, in a mockery of Achilles' silent suffering. Patroclus pulls away and buries his face in Hector's chest. He runs his hands through his hair in the same way that Achilles had the night before but to Patroclus there is a different meaning behind the action.

For the first time he sees that it's love.

Achilles excuses himself from the table and makes his way out of the coffee shop, his fingers instantly aching at the sudden cold. He's making his way down the street with no destination in mind.

He thinks about them, about Achilles and Patroclus. Patroclus and Achilles. The should-have-been. The Could-have-happened. They were a past dream, a present tense. They were a future goal.

But that's what they had become, Achilles realized. No, they weren't an almost, they were a used-to-be, I-wish-we-were. But not an almost.

Achilles races home, the tears stinging his eyes and threatening to fall. Patroclus doesn’t race after him and later as Achilles lays in bed under heavy blankets, there’s no text asking where he’s been and no phone call asking why he’d left so abruptly. There’s nothing but Achilles knows he’ll just forgive Patroclus the next day. It made sense, every bit of it. It was bound to happen. Achilles had always known he was unlovable, not worthy of a soft heart like Patroclus’s.

But this, the reality of the whole thing, the sudden realization slamming right into his face like dozens of bricks all at once- this was too much. Achilles turns over on his bed, for a brief moment thinking about just forgetting Hector and Patroclus but how could he do that? He gets rid of Hector and he might as well get rid of Patroclus, too and throw away so many memories. He gets rid of Patroclus and it’s like getting rid of half of his soul, his life, his heart. If he gets rid of Patroclus, he loses it all.

Achilles can’t sleep that night, but it’s like every other night before that.

He thinks about what we can’t have, and what could have happened. He thinks about all of those unspoken words, all of the poems that he’d saved for when we could have had Patroclus all to himself.

He thinks and he thinks but none of that could ever change what is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i was looking through my folders and found this. i posted it before but deleted it. here it is again :~)
> 
> If you like this please consider [commissioning me!](https://misoyoongi.tumblr.com/post/166154977751/writing-commissions)


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